


Even Stone Breaks

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Suilad Aran Thranduil [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:45:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The elves of Rivendell were perfect, as beautiful as the sun. The elves of Lorien were timeless, as happy as the birds in the trees. Those elves were made of Mithril, shining and valuable. Unbreakable. But no one ever dreamt of Mirkwood when they dreamt of elves. For the Mirkwood elves were made of stone and even stone breaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Stone Breaks

**Author's Note:**

> Arya and I wanted the scene where Thranduil gets informed that his son has gone, so here it is.

“Aran nin” a timid whisper, at the base of his throne. He sighs heavily and turns his head to look down at one of his messengers.

“Yes?” He asks, with more anger than he means. The elf swallows heavily and bows their head.

“The prince is gone, my king. A patrol saw him and Tauriel heading towards Lake Town…” Thranduil’s heart breaks and his mask crumbles all at once. The air is torn from his lungs and his eyes burn.

“N-no.” he whispers, struggling to keep control of himself. “And the… the patrol? They did not try to stop them?” he asks, his fingers shaking as he pushes against the throne in order to stand up. He leans against the armrest to keep himself steady as his legs tremble.

“No, my king. Prince Legolas ordered them home, he said it was by your order.” Thranduil stumbles slightly as he descends the stairs, the other elf does not comment or move to help.

“Out! Get out! All of you! Out! Now! And send Thorontur and his patrol after them. I want them brought back here now. Knock them out if you have to! But they must be brought home alive!” he does not hear the shuffling feet or the tiny voice acknowledging his orders. All he can hear is the sound of his heart breaking in his ears, and the sound of his heavy breathing.

He takes a step but his leg buckles and he falls to his knees, he does not get up. He buries his head in his shaking hands, and feels his fingers brush against his crown. He growls and tears the crown from his head, it tugs out a few strands of hair with it, but he does not care. “You did this!” He whispers, his voice wobbling with tears. “You did this! You did all of this!” he cries, throwing the crown across the room, it hits a wall and falls apart. “You did this!” he screams. “You took my father. You took my wife. You are taking my son!” he sobs, burying his head in his hands again. “Legolas. Tithen Las. My Greenleaf. Please come home. I can’t lose you. Oh Valar, please.” But when did anyone say the Valar ever heard the line of Oropher? 

The elves of Rivendell were perfect, as beautiful as the sun. The elves of Lorien were timeless, as happy as the birds in the trees. Those elves were made of Mithril, shining and valuable. Unbreakable. But no one ever dreamt of Mirkwood when they dreamt of elves. For the Mirkwood elves were made of stone and even stone breaks.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a complex headcanon for how Thranduil expresses anger and despair, so you are allowed to disagree with how I have protrayed him, but you will not be able to change my opinion. Sorry.


End file.
